


thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

by cat (rileyfinns)



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26473051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rileyfinns/pseuds/cat
Summary: Most of the time, Adam doesn’t miss Miami, but when he does, he mostly misses that letter he’d found under a floorboard in his apartment. It’d meant a lot to him, that outpouring of love, the vulnerability and sincerity and purity of it.or: Adam and Michael meet in California.
Relationships: Adam Alvaro/Michael Cordero Jr.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like... last summer. like summer 2019 and said i'd get back to it and then i didn't. so! here she is and i am so prepared for simply no alive person to read this but that's okay because I CARE ABOUT IT and u gotta make ur own fun sometimes!

Most of the time, Adam doesn’t miss Miami. While living in New York had meant that Adam had technically been closer to home than he is in Los Angeles, it doesn’t  _ feel  _ that way. Adam can feel the sand on his toes and the sun on his face and be anywhere. He can be eighteen, on the beach with Jane Villanueva, seeing the sun glint off of the ring he’d bought her. He can be twenty-five, pouring over the letter he’d found under his floorboard, his stomach churning with the knowledge that he did the right thing and the irrefutable pain of breaking up with his long-term girlfriend. He can be twenty-eight, heavy with the weight of falling back in love with Jane Villanueva and leaving her behind all over again. 

He can be thirty, eyes closed and sun on his face, fully at peace until something pounces on him, the sand no longer only between his toes but in his mouth.

“Bo!” Someone yells, but Adam barely hears it, because he opens his eyes and there’s a  _ giant dog  _ in his lap, and, well, come  _ on.  _

“Hi there!” He says happily, reaching out a hand to the dog. When it doesn’t flinch, he buries his hand into its soft fur, eagerly petting him.

There’s a soft laugh as someone slows to a stop next to him. Adam looks up and sees just about the last person he’s ever expected to run into, given the fact that he’s dead.

So, realistically, this is not Jane Villanueva’s dead husband. There’s no way. Maybe he had a twin? But Jane had never mentioned a twin, and that had seemed like the kind of thing that might’ve come up, right? You know, in conversations about grief, about how it was hard to move on because sometimes she had to see her husband’s twin brother, and it was Michael but  _ not  _ Michael --

Yeah, that’s something he would’ve remembered.

“Sorry ‘bout Bo,” The man says with a smile that’s just a little awkward, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his head.

“No worries, dude. There’s no reason to be.” The sun is right above the stranger’s head, so Adam has to squint a little to look up at him, so that’s probably why he looks  _ a little  _ like Jane’s dead husband.

The man squats down next to him, rubbing his dog’s head as he chastises it, and Adam gets his first good look at him, but there’s just no way. He has to find out his name.

“I’m Adam, by the way,” He says, removing the hand he’d been using on the dog and holding it out to the owner instead.

With a firm shake, the man says, “I’m Michael.”

“... You wouldn’t be Michael Cordero, would you?”

Michael isn’t smiling anymore.

• • •

Most of the time, Adam doesn’t miss Miami, but when he does, he mostly misses that letter he’d found under a floorboard in his apartment. It’d meant a lot to him, that outpouring of love, the vulnerability and sincerity and purity of it. The  _ earnestness  _ that hadn’t lost itself, but rather found itself, through the maturation of love. He’d been striving for something like that since he first found that letter, all those years ago.

Now, the man who’d written it is sitting in front of him, slowly stirring sugar into his coffee, and everything had gone wrong for him. It’s rude to ask how he’d come back to life, and he doesn’t really feel entitled to that information from a complete stranger anyway, but it’s just so --

It’s something out of a comic book. 

Adam can’t be held accountable for whatever fascination is forming.

Adam can’t be held accountable for whatever little leftover crush he’d had on that writer rekindling.

Adam could have drawn  _ arcs  _ about that man, is all. Issues upon issues upon issues. Series upon series upon series. He could have spent years learning how to draw him the right way. He’d doodled a little in his spare time (and when he’d been burnt out from trying to meet deadlines), romantic eyes and soft hair and hands that were toughened by time but still so soft against skin.

None of that had compared to the pictures Jane had shown him.

The Michael in front of him is clearly no longer that Michael, but, man, the things Adam could  _ do  _ with whatever version he’d come across. The reasons he could give for smile lines that had fallen into disuse and the reasons he could give for new ones to form. The strong line of his nose, the soft firmness of his jaw, the unmistakable kindness in eyes he had to imagine wanted to be anything but right now --

Adam could do a lot with it, is all.

When Michael opens his mouth, his words stream out slow and sure, and his jaw locks up when he’s done speaking.

Unfortunately, Adam had been too distracted cataloging all of that to listen.  _ Fuck _ .

“Sorry,” Adam says, snapping himself into focus with a sheepish smile, “could you repeat that? I’m still a little in shock.”

“I asked how you knew my name.”

“I know -- I knew, uh. Jane.” Adam winces as he says the name, even though the look on Michael’s face doesn’t change, aside from something that happens for a split second in the eyes.

The  _ subtlety  _ of his expressions, the little changes, the minute details -- is it wrong if he’s taking notes? Adam only realizes it’s been quiet for a solid few beats when Michael’s jaw begins to clench, a sign of patience waning.

“Jane and I… dated for a little. After you died. Before I moved here. Well, we dated for a little when we were eighteen, too, and then we dated again, and I moved both times. So. Bad luck, I guess.”

“Something always goes wrong,” Michael agrees gruffly but nonchalantly, almost like he’s trying to  _ relate.  _

Oh, man. Adam wants to know everything about this guy.

• • •

Adam doesn’t learn everything about Michael, of course, but he learns that something pretty bad had happened to him. The bottom line had been that no, he hadn’t actually died and, no, he hadn’t been placed into witness protection, so Adam hadn’t ruined anything by knowing his full name.

Michael had laughed when he’d reassured Adam, saying something about how he would have had to have gotten assigned the worst cover  _ ever,  _ if he’d kept his first name.

Adam’d heard more of that laugh than he thought he would, but he’d still like to hear more.

He’d also learned that Michael is new in town, fresh from Colorado. He’d needed a change of pace from that life. 

Adam’d thought about all of the familiarity California must hold for both of them, but hadn’t said anything about it, because things don’t always need to be said to be felt.

Because Michael is new in town, and  _ only  _ because Michael is new, certainly not at all about a little tiny insignificant crush Adam may or may not harbor, Adam offers Michael his number.

He doesn’t expect it to get used, but he hopes.

• • •

It takes a few days for Adam to get a text from an unknown number, but he’s Adam, so he still scrambles for it, just in case. This isn’t even the first time he’s fumbled for his phone this afternoon, but his friends still poke fun at him as he hurries to see the message on his screen.

_ Hey there, Adam. It’s Michael. I was wondering if you knew any other places to get some coffee around here? _

Adam spends a good minute reading and rereading that, and just when he’s about processed it and his face is about to split in half from his grin, another one comes in.

_ The beach we were at is pretty close to my house, but the place we went to before doesn’t allow dogs, and I hate leaving Bo outside. _

He has to cover his mouth with his hand. He’s going to lose his mind.

“How old are you, man?” Sarah, a friend of his, asks with a snort, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Be nice to him!” Her girlfriend, Priya, chastises, leaning closer to Adam with a grin. “What did he say?”

“He said that they’re adults,” Sarah chimes in before Adam can answer.

“Also that this is pretty wildly inappropriate,” Another friend, Kyle, adds as he scrolls casually through his own phone.

“Both of you shut up!” Priya demands, coming even closer. “What did he say?”

“He asked if I knew any coffee places that allowed dogs inside because he hates leaving his dog outside.”

“Oh my  _ god,”  _ Priya swoons, falling into Adam’s lap. “Text him back  _ right now _ .”

“I would if you weren’t on my arms.”

“Figure it out!”

• • •

They text fairly consistently that night, with both of them casually sprinkling in details of their lives. 

Adam doesn’t have any roommates, but someone is usually sleeping on his couch anyway, and Michael’s apartment doesn’t technically allow dogs, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them, right? Adam likes sitcoms and Michael likes talk shows. Adam still bumps “Caroline” by Amine and Michael’s go-to is still anything by Bruno Mars. Adam likes to ride his bike most places and Michael’s car is still in Colorado, because he’d had to drive the moving truck down and his parents’ hadn’t been able to drive it down for him yet.

It’s that last fact that leads to Adam offering to drive Michael to the coffee shop he’d had in mind for him and Bo.

Michael informs him that he’d been planning to stop by during a run, but Adam is more than welcome to meet them there.

And. Well. How is he supposed to say no to  _ that? _


End file.
